Cannonshot
by PaintedAutumn
Summary: This is it...the 18th Hunger Games.  Guaranteed to be a Games that no one will ever forget.  Lives about to be lost, blood about to be spilled, and goodbyes about to be said.  No one ever did like saying farewell... *Formerly Of Blood and Cannons*
1. Introduction

First, there's Marin **Stelz**, the young golden-eyed boy of _District One_; and **Amethyst Diabla**, the curly-haired Career, his District partner.

Then there's **Athena Argos**, the very feline red-headed _District Two_ tribute, and **Tallis Drake**, the wiry perfectionist of _District Three_.

**Sheldon Mayer** comes next; the _District Four_ boy with the body of a swimmer and the legs of a long-distance runner; a formidable combination.

**Tallulah Gray** is the quiet, determined girl of _District Five_; while **Falline Tamori** of _District Six_ hopes that her cleverness will get her through the Games...alive.

**Alexa Deline** is the determined female tribute for_ District Eight,_ the one who hopes her imagination and creativity will come in handy.

_District Ten_ has never been known for its tributes. ** Ansel Junning** is the sixteen-year-old tribute hoping to change that.

Finally; _District Eleven_'s female tribute, **Madison Cambridge**. She's sneaky and quiet, but she has one terrible weakness...blindness.

Ten tributes. No twelve or thirteen year olds. They all have their own strengths and weaknesses. They all have a fighting chance. Can they all win? No, but they sure can try.


	2. Just Plain Bad Luck

_**Falline Tamori; District Six**_

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When Falline Tamori first woke, she kept her eyes closed for a few moments before blearily opening them. Although she had awoken on her own terms, Falline still felt quite tired, like she hadn't had a good night's sleep.

She was lying against a slightly crumbling brick wall, her feet tucked beside her as to not trip anybody as they walked by and draw attention to her sleeping form. Falline noticed she was still wearing her shoes. Her cheek felt red and raw, as it had been pressed and scraped against the wall. Raising a hand to the skin, she realized the flesh was bleeding slightly, with little bits of brick, like small pebbles, were stuck to her face. She gently rubbed at her cheek, wincing as the scratches began to sting. Satisfied that the little pieces of the wall were out of her cheek, Falline stood up, her legs still wobbly from sleep.

"Ah, so the little princess is awake?"

A normal person would have been startled, even frightened, by this sudden statement, but Falline just chuckled.

"Oh, she is. And hungry too. Got any food, Rikash?"

A man stepped quietly out of the shadows of the alley. He had a friendly face, but Falline had seen it contorted with anger one too many times. His shaggy grayish-black hair fell in front of his eyes, concealing most of them from view. He was smirking, as he always was when he was teasing Falline. Other than Wolf, the lead fighter of the gang, she was his favorite. He had adopted her when she was young, even though he was only five years older than her. They had always shared a sibling-like affection for each other, though, unlike most siblings, they never fought. Sometimes Rikash couldn't resist teasing Falline, but she didn't mind it. Sarcasm was also a strong point of hers.

"Anything for my little princess," Rikash grinned and pulled out a wing of some kind of bird. Though it looked cold and stringy, Falline fell upon the food. She hadn't eaten since yesterday, at noon, and she was starving. While she gnawed on the bone, Rikash took the opportunity to speak.

"So, the Reaping. Are you nervous?"

"Not really," Falline muttered over her bone. "I didn't have to take out any tesserae, thanks to you guys."

Rikash smiled. "There's still a chance."

Falline rolled her eyes. "I'm only fourteen. That's...what? Three slips in the bowl? I know some kids have, like, twenty. Got any more of these?" She waved the bone, which she had picked clean with her teeth.

Rikash tossed her another wing. "Let's say you were picked. What would you do?"

She let out an exasperated sigh. "Outsmart the other tributes. Shouldn't be hard, should it?"

He laughed, a loud, raucous sound. "Sounds like an _excellent_ plan, missy."

Falline narrowed her eyes. Although she was good at picking out sarcasm from statements, Rikash's words dripped with it. "Yeah? What would you do?"

"Well, unlike you, I seem to have gotten myself out of eligibility relatively unscathed." Falline threw her first bone at him. He ducked, but not fast enough. It hit him on the left temple.

"Because you were _lucky_," she retorted, finishing the rest of her second wing. "You can't brag about something that was based on luck."

Rikash raised his eyebrows, which were already hidden by his hair. "Oh yeah? Says who?"

"Says me," she said, raising her bone threateningly.

"All right, all right." He protected his face with his hands, in case the feisty fourteen-year-old decided to chuck the white object at him anyway. "I'm just saying. You have to have a plan."

"A plan for something that might not even happen?" Falline questioned. "Come _on_, Rikash. The chances of me being picked are one in thousands. I have three slips. _Just_ three slips." She murmured her last three words to herself over and over.

_Just three slips. Just three slips._

Rikash looked slightly affronted. "I'm just trying to help you, Falline. No need to get all worked up.

"I'm...I'm sorry." Her breath caught in her throat when she said those words. This was the fourth time in her life she remembered saying them. Once when she had gotten a tattoo of a black cat on her right shoulder blade, even though Rikash told her not to; that she was too young and the tattoo cost far too much money anyways. In the end, the gang leader began to grow accustomed to the tattoo. Falline's stealth and skill brought back the money quickly, and it was also a great symbol. In a way, Falline was like a cat, agile and nimble, cunning and clever. The tattoo, in a way, symbolized herself.

The second time she had apologized was when she had accidentally set off an alarm while the others were robbing a shop near the town square. The group got out safely but they left behind priceless items. Since that unfortunate occurrence, Falline had been extra-careful; she wouldn't permit herself to make the same mistake again.

The third time was when she had lost a very expensive necklace on her way to the Black Market. It was very beautiful; a rarity in District Six. The chain was made out of pure silver, with a beautiful sapphire set into a shining pendant. Falline remembered clutching it in her fist, trying desperately to make sure no one saw the chain or the sapphire, that no one recognized the priceless piece of jewelry. When she checked again, the necklace was gone. Though she was never sure what had happened to it, she was pretty certain it had slipped out of her grasp while she had been busy worming her way through the crowd. The necklace never resurfaced.

Now this. It was the first time in months, maybe even years, that she had apologized. She felt weird as the words escaped her lips. Falline never said "sorry" if she didn't mean it; a fact Rikash knew very well. His gaze softened and he ruffled her spiky black hair affectionately.

"That's okay. Now, better start getting ready. You wouldn't want to look bad to the Reaping!"

Falline sighed and stretched. She lithely made her way around the various trash bags and other junk in the alley towards a door, dark and nearly concealed in the shadows. It wasn't much of a door, really. Less than half of it remained. It hung slightly open, one of its hinges missing. Most of the top half was gone, though the part nearest the missing hinge still remained. The entire door was lopsided, even the frame was slightly crumbling. Falline smiled when she saw the door. Even though it let in unwanted drafts and pests, she still liked it. It meant "home" to her. She didn't know if she could bear it if the door was replaced.

Nimbly Falline made her way through the gap between the frame and the wood, quickly followed by Rikash. The place smelled of mold and alcohol, but she didn't mind it. She had grown accustomed to the sometimes revolting smell over the past couple years. It was normal to her now.

The main room was quiet at the moment; empty, vacant. She guessed that most of the gang were out and about or still asleep. Through the dark, she managed to find the stairs that lead to her room. Falline was lucky enough to have it to herself, being the only girl in the entire group. She found herself alone; Rikash had left her side. Without so much as a backward glance to see where he could have disappeared to, Falline made her way to her "room" and closed the rotting door behind her.

It really wasn't much; Falline's bedroom. Her bed lay across the far side, a small table lamp set beside it. That was it for furniture, apart from a moth-eaten arm chair in one corner that had most likely been taken from the District dump. Across one wall lay five piles of clothing. The gang couldn't afford a dresser. Without really thinking, Falline chose a black shirt from the first pile, black tights from the second pile and a dark gray mini-skirt from the third. Finally, she chose a black belt from the fourth, rather messy, pile.

Almost subconsciously, Falline changed into her new outfit. Lastly, she pulled on a pair of black combat boots that lay next to the fifth pile; short and pants. Having nothing to check her reflection in, Falline simply looked down and admired the effect. If she _was_ picked, and that was a big _If_, she would already appear "edgy and dangerous" without any help from her prep team and stylists. Falline smiled.

_Perfect._

Slowly, she walked down the stairs. The concrete was crumbling, like the rest of the building, but she had long since gotten over her fear of falling off. It had lasted this long, why not a couple more years?

Rikash was standing by the door. He wolf-whistled jokingly when he saw her, and Falline punched him lightly in the arm. They began to walk down to the town square.

"Will Wolf and Kalli be there?" She questioned, referring to her two best friends.

"Of course," Rikash replied, smiling down at her. "They could be tributes too, couldn't they?"

"Oh yeah." To be honest, Falline had totally forgotten that Wolf and Kalli were only fifteen and were eligible to be Reaped too. They just seemed so...so mature. Anyway, Wolf was an expert when it came to fighting (he was, after all, the lead fighter of the gang) and Kalli was extremely smart. There was no use worrying about them, Falline was sure they could both make it out alive. _ Unless...unless Kalli or Wolf and I was Reaped. No, don't think about that. The chances of that happening are...one in a million. There's still a chance, though. No, stop it! You can't think that way!_

Feeling suddenly queasy, she quickened her pace. Rikash, with his longer legs, didn't have to work hard to keep up with her.

"Feeling nervous?" He questioned, looking down at her, his gray eyes concerned.

"No, of course not," Falline lied. "I just want to get there before it starts."

"So you can prove me wrong?" He grinned, and she just scowled.

"Very funny."

Sooner than Falline would have liked, they found themselves in the town square. She and Rikash were separated as Falline was herded into the fourteens' section by a Peacekeeper in a white uniform. Once in her place, she stood on tiptoe to look around, and immediately spotted Wolf's fluffy white-blond hair with all the other fifteen-year-olds. Apparently he was looked for her too, because he caught her eye and gave a small smile. The slightly shorter Kalli was also standing next to him, with his long black hair and unusually dark blue eyes. He turned, saw her looking at him, and gave a broad grin.

_"You look great,"_ he mouthed, still smiling.

_"Thanks,"_ she mouthed back, and then the mayor began to speak.

He was a tall but stooped man with short, wispy gray hair. He had wire-rimmed glasses that rested on a rather unappealing pug nose. When he began to speak, the faulty microphone he was using echoed everything he said, providing an unpractical, but very amusing, effect.

"We gather here today..." _We gather here today..._

"In honor of the Capitol..." _In honor of the Capitol..._

"Whose acts of mercy..." _Whose acts of mercy..._

Falline caught Wolf's eye and had to cover her mouth to stop herself from giggling. She didn't bother listening to the rest of the speech, preferring instead to watch a little ant crawling beside a crack in the stone.

"And now for our escort, the lovely Candra Aurora!" _And now for our escort, the lovely Candra Aurora!_

Falline almost had to cover her eyes as Candra walked onto the stage. She was a bright yellow woman, so bright that she seemed to be glowing. Her banana-yellow hair was piled on top of her head in the strangest fashion. The bright orange color of her cheeks gave her the impression to be permanently blushing. Although she was far from being plump, she had a round face and a double chin. Falline guessed she had neglected her face when she had gotten the surgery done. She almost wanted to shield her eyes.

"Ladies first!" She shrieked without bothering to use the microphone, her extremely long-nailed fingers diving into the bowl holding Falline's name. Although she was not a particularly superstitious person, she crossed her fingers. All she could do now was hope.

Candra pulled a name from the bowl and squinted, trying to make out the name.

"Erm, Falline Tamori! Come on up, you lucky lady!"

Falline's heart stopped cold. She couldn't breathe, she couldn't move. _Maybe someone will volunteer for you? No, don't be stupid, this is District Six. No one in their right mind would volunteer for you._

Although it felt like eternity, only a second had actually passed since Candra had read Falline's name. Slowly, ever so slowly, she began to make her way to the stage. The crowd parted easily. Some people were looking at her with sympathy, others with relief, still others with mixed emotions. She felt sick.

"Why, what a wonderful tribute we have here! Congratulations, Falline! Now for the male tribute!" Candra skipped across the stage to the second glass bowl and plucked a name out. A boy in the thirteens' section was called. As he neared the stage, Falline saw that tears were rolling out of his eyes.

_What a wimp,_ she thought to herself. He took his place, they shook hands, and that was it.

_Looks like you were right, Rikash. Now all I've got to do is come up with a Game plan, so to speak._

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_**Athena Argos; District Two**_

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Athena Argos was never a morning person.

She was also never the luckiest of people.

Therefore, of course Athena had to be awake at the crack of dawn. Training. Although usually she didn't mind it, she didn't like getting up early. _Especially_ when everyone else was sleeping in.

Athena's hair was still mussed from sleep, her eyelids still heavy. She kept looking over her shoulder, to see if her father had entered the large training center. If Jupiter Argos noticed his daughter's usually impeccable aim was off, she would never be allowed to volunteer. Now that Athena was eighteen; this was her last chance to get revenge on the tributes from District Eleven.

Athena winced and the knife she was about to throw went off its target and hit the wall. Four years ago, Athena's older sister Artemis had volunteered for the Games. They had thought she would win; be the next victor. She was tall and strong; a perfect tribute. She, perhaps, would have been the one to create District Two's reputation as ruthless killers.

Athena remembered standing in the town square, surrounded by family and friends. People with relatives in the Games were treated like royalty. The Argos' were given delicious meals and beautiful clothing. Athena had been gifted a gorgeous red silk dress that became her favorite at the time. Nowadays the dress hung in the back of her closet, symbolizing the death of her sister, the blood that had spilled out of Artemis' throat.

District Eleven. Ugh. How Athena hated that horrible, lower District. If that good-for-nothing boy hadn't snuck into the fight at the feast and thrust that terrible knife into Artemis' throat, Athena would have still had a sister. She would have still had friends. And she would still have a normal, happy life, living in a lavish house in Victor's Village.

Overcome with a sudden surge of anger, Athena lunged forward and threw the knife in her hand as hard as she could towards the target. It struck dead center.

"Nice," said a curt voice behind her. Athena whirled around, her curly red hair whipping behind her. Jupiter Argos stood not five yards away, a cold, familiar smirk on his otherwise expressionless face.

"Though that," he gestured to the knife still stuck in the wall, "could afford some improvement."

Athena blushed, looking down at her feet. "I got...distracted."

"That's not an excuse," her father told her, walking over to the blade and pulling it out by the handle. "You must stay focused. What happens if you get distracted in the Games? You'll end up with a dagger in your throat, just like Artemis."

She flinched visibly when Jupiter mentioned her dead sister. "Don't say that." She muttered, still looking at the ground. "She's your daughter, and she's d-d-dead."

He sighed and walked over to her, putting a hand on her shoulder. Athena could tell it was meant to be a comforting gesture, but it gave her no warmth whatsoever.

"I'm sorry." He said, though his harsh tone was not apologetic. "I just want to protect you. I can't afford to lose another daughter to the Games."

Athena moved away from her father so that his hand dropped. "I need to practice my bow and arrows," she said flatly, jogging to the other side of the center so that Jupiter couldn't try to call her back.

There was a collection of bows hung on a rack near the axe station. Next to the rack lay a bunch of quivers, each holding a dozen arrows. She picked up the quiver closest to her and selected a hand-crafted wooden bow. It was a beautiful thing, made out of strong yet appealing wood. It was the same bow Athena had used ever since she had been old enough to not shoot herself in the eye. She remembered getting in a fight with a boy who had wanted to use the same bow. She had given the boy a black eye and a broken finger, but she herself had sprained her wrist, so her training had been put back a month or so. The boy had ended up switching to a different center, and although he claimed it was because of the lack of "quality equipment", Athena knew that he didn't want to be around her anymore. The thought made her smile. _He made the right decision. _No one_ messes with me._

Although at first Athena had found the bow slightly too stiff for her tastes, she had soon grown accustomed to it, and now she used no other. Now the bow fit comfortably into her hands, as though it had molded to fit her fingers.

She fit the arrow onto the string; almost subconsciously. She had done the same so many times before it wasn't as though she really had to think about it. She lifted the bow and released the string. It flew, almost as though in slow motion, and embedded itself just shy of the bull's eye. Swearing softly under her breath, Athena set the second arrow. This time, the tip hit directly in the center of the target. She smiled her usual smirk and got ready to shoot the last ten arrows.

Three of her last arrows hit the bull's eye, the other seven just barely missing. Athena sighed. She wasn't doing her best today. She pulled the arrows out of the target and stuffed them unceremoniously back in the quiver. For a moment, she debated whether or not to continue training or to start getting ready for the Reaping. _ No,_ she decided, _it's not worth it. Besides, I have to look perfect if I'm going to volunteer today. No use making the stylists feel like they have a lot of work to do._

Athena threw the quiver on top of the others and carefully placed the bow on the rack. In order to avoid her father, she'd have to take extra precautions, precautions that she at the moment did not want to take. She was tired, sweaty, and hungry. With a sigh, Athena set off in the direction of door, wishing that Artemis had never died, so that she would never had had to go through what she had.

She moved like a cat, lithely making her way through all the stations. The training center was relatively new, only being built six years ago. Before then all the Districts had been helpless, all the tributes had the same chances. One out of twenty four, that was it. Nothing more, nothing less. Now, with Districts One, Two, and Four starting training, the rest of the tributes' chances were reduced even more. It was a surprise none of the so-called Careers had won after the centers being built. The only Career that had been crowned victor in the past seventeen years was Mags, from District Four, who had won the 12th Hunger Games when she was seventeen.

Athena smirked. If that fool could win when she was seventeen, she could definitely win if she was eighteen. She had gone through the Training, when "Mags" had not. Plus, she was stronger and better than the District Four victor. She was born to win these Games. While it was rumored for Mags' health to be slowly dwindling, Athena would enjoy her victory. She was going to spend the rest of her days in her beautiful and lovely house in the Victor's Village, wear only the best clothes, eat only the most delicious meals. _Yes,_ Athena thought, _my life will be perfect. I will be admired and envied. I will __avenge my sister's death by killing the tributes of the wretched District Eleven, then return to the life I could have only dreamed of._

Yes, winning the Games would be a piece of cake. Her life afterward would be even easier. Athena sighed happily. She had it all in her mind. She had it all planned out.

Two stubbed toes and four close calls later, Athena found herself in her room. It was extremely large, though in District Two it was found to be quite average-sized. She prided herself on knowing that one of her closets was probably the size of a District Eleven citizen's kitchen, living room, and bathroom combined. It was a lavishly decorated room. The bed sheets were all silk; the half a dozen pillows all cashmere. The walls, however, were still painted a horrifying shade of bubblegum pink. The job had been done when Athena was just eleven; before her sister had died. She frequently wished to have it repainted, but for some reason it had never been attended to. Though the room was often cleaned and dusted by the family's pair of Avoxes, the walls remained as pink as ever; a fact that Athena hated.

She took of her shoes and resisted the urge to throw them against that terrible wall. Instead, she kicked them to the middle of the floor. One of their Avoxes was sure to pick them up later anyway. The plush carpet was soft and comfortable under Athena's sweaty and admittedly smelly feet. She sighed with relief. Although her shoes were custom-made by the District's best designers, they still weren't too comfortable. Soon the carpet was replaced with cool, smooth stone. Athena had reached her bathroom. While smaller than one of her closets, it certainly was very large and appealing. Smooth, onyx counters, white marble floors. She very much liked this room. Also, the walls were not colored a hideous pink.

Quickly undressing, Athena tossed her clothes to one corner and stepped lightly into the shower. With a quick turn of the knob, she was doused with hot water. She liked the steady stream hot enough that the large room soon filled up with steam. The water slightly scalded her skin, but Athena liked it that way. Somehow, it felt good. She sighed, pouring shampoo and then conditioner on her hair. Her fingers worked fluidly and soon her previously tangled hair was soft and silky.

Once convinced that all of the hair products had been washed out, she stepped out, wrapping a towel around her body. With some help from a blow dryer, her hair soon returned to its natural curl. Still wearing the towel, Athena stepped out of the bathroom and back into her bedroom.

Athena had two closets, though the second one wasn't anywhere near full. Compared to most District One girls, Athena didn't have a lot of clothes. She had never been too obsessed with things like that. Well, no, that was a lie. There was a time, when Artemis was still alive, that Athena had loved clothes and makeup and spent all her money at the local mall. Now that her sister was dead, it seemed foolish to spend so much time worrying over such simple, useless things. Of course, clothes are useful, but Athena would be just as happy in a t-shirt and sweats as she would in a sleeveless silk dress. Perhaps even more so. Consequently, most of Athena's gorgeous and expensive dresses had been placed in the back of the closet, where they hung there, lonely and too small.

She walked into her first closet; the smallest of the two. She needed something that wouldn't be too casual, but she wanted to be herself in it. If she wore something frilly and pink, she'd give off the impression that she was girlish and sweet, which she was most definitely _not. _An impression like that would only be influenced by her small build and her annoyingly high-pitched voice. Ugh. Why must she be cursed with such a thing? It was horrible. It made her sound like a little girl.

With a sigh, Athena began to browse through the various clothing racks nearest her. She seemed to be sighing a lot today. Well, after all, the Reaping was to take place in just over one hour. It was sure to trigger lots of sigh-worthy memories.

A hour later and Athena found herself in the town square, standing on her tiptoes, trying to see over the heads of the other eighteen-year-olds who were, admittedly, much taller than her. She was wearing a short, dark violet dress, with lighter ribbons for straps. Athena quite liked this dress, it wasn't too girly but it was, after all, a dress. It made her look edgy and dangerous; especially with the fishnet leggings Athena had added, just for good measure.

She began to tap her foot impatiently as the mayor slowly neared the stage. He was a stooped man who moved by shuffling his feet. By the time he finally reached the microphone, Athena's attention was elsewhere. It was something that happened often when she became impatient.

It took forever for the escort to be introduced. Finally, a dark-skinned woman with vibrant purple hair and slanted, heavily-lidded amber eyes skipped on stage. Though she did look slightly freakish, she seemed pleased to have a Career District for once. For a moment, Athena wondered what had happened to last year's escort, a man with tattoos all up and down his body. However, her thoughts were interrupted by the woman's surprisingly deep voice saying, "Ladies first!"

Before Athena could act, the Capitol escort's long fingers plunged into the bowl and pulled out a name. Her lips formed the word, but before she could say anything, Athena shouted "I volunteer!"

As she ran towards the stage, she saw a girl from her section giving a death glare, her hand dropping to her side. _Sucker_, Athena thought, smirking to herself. _Too late for you, now, isn't it?_

As Athena took her place on stage, she saw her father smiling softly and her mother's eyes beginning to fill with tears. She sighed. Her mother didn't understand. She was going to win, and that was that. She wasn't going to let her guard down, like Artemis had done.

Before the escort even had time to pick the male tribute, a strong, cold voice rang out.

"I volunteer!"

As whoever had spoken moved towards the stage, Athena caught a glimpse of a mop of dark brown hair. Then, as the boy emerged from the crowd, her heart caught in her throat. A vision of a dark-haired boy, snapping her wrist back, flashed across her mind's eye.

It was him.

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**A/N: **_**So, how'd you like it? It's really long, almost 5,000 words. Yeesh. I promise you that in the future, chapters won't be this long. Unless you like them this long. Even though it's a Reaping, I rather like this chapter. I love all these characters! At first, I wasn't really feeling Athena, but I really began to like her towards the end of her section.**_

_** Oh, and I changed the title, because I just didn't like it. It didn't flow. Hope you like the new one :).**_

_** Now, I better explain what I'm up to here. Y'see, at first I was only going to do one character per one introductory chapter. For instance, one character has their Reaping written. Another has their time in the Justice Building written. Still another has their train ride written. But then I decided the characters needed a bit more explaining than that, so I decided that two characters get their Reaping written, two characters get their goodbyes written, and so on. Expect to see your character sooner. Or later. But every character will get at least two half-chapters written about them before the Games. Got it? Also, each character will get their time to shine in the Games before they are killed off. I will try my best to not focus on one person/alliance too much. I know it can get annoying when your character isn't getting as much screen time as you would like.**_

_** Obviously, this fic will be written in third person. I hope you like it that way, because if you don't, I'm not doing anything about it. Third person is easier for me to write.**_

_** Also, I'm not doing sponsoring. I'm not that organized. However, it's no excuse for you not to review. Because if you don't, there's a good chance your character will die faster.**_

_** Let me explain. So we all have some time in our lives where something is going on or we're too busy and we just can't review. Me, being the little lovely angel I am, have given you some slack. Depending on how great your reviews are (e.g. something at least a few sentences that includes some praise and constructive criticism) I will give you a little leeway. The better the reviews, the more non-reviewed chapters I won't count.**_

_** For instance. Reviewer (A) leaves sentence-long reviews that usually tell me that the chapter was great and to update soon. However, one day (A) is feeling lazy and decides not to review. This continues for three chapters. (A)'s character's name will go into the that four times. Once because it's necessary, and three times because (A) didn't review three chapters and (A)'s reviews were pretty crappy. Now, reviewer (B)'s reviews are satisfactory. They're more than five sentences long and always include some sort of praise and criticism. Then, one day (B) is off on vacation and misses a chapter. The next time a new chapter comes out (B)'s having computer problems and doesn't review that chapter. The third time (B)'s just having a bad day and reads but doesn't review. (B)'s character's name will only go in once or twice more, if even that. Get it? Now, if you don't review at all, your character's name will go into the hat eleven times. Why? Because there's ten characters, and therefore ten chapters before the Games. This is number one. If you don't review at all, there's an enormous chance that your character will be the first to die.**_

_** If your character dies, I will remove all their names from the hat. If your character doesn't die during that particular chapter, and you don't review that chapter, there's a heightened chance that he/she will die next chapter.**_

_** Get it? Got it? Good. Phew, that was a long author's note. I hope you get it. Review, please! Also tell me if you like the chapters this long, or if you would like them shorter.**_

**~Autumn **

**Edit: I am _so_ clever. I found a button that says "insert horizontal ruler". I clicked it, and what appeared? A LINE! Muahahaha. Now, carry on with your daily lives. Don't mind me.  
**


	3. Final Farewells?

_** Tallis Drake; District Three**_

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A soft, lonely sound filled a particular room in District Three's Justice Building, a rhythmic, anxious noise. As Tallis Drake sat on the edge of the sofa provided for him, he tapped his foot on the dark hardwood floor, creating the sound that mimicked the beating of his racing heart. Tallis did not handle shock very well; it was something he was not used to in his average, uneventful life. Though the threat of the Reaping had hung over his head like a dark cloud ever since he turned twelve, it had always seemed like something that would happen to someone else, not him. Now that he was here, instead of another poor boy, it forced the rest of his life into an entirely new perspective.

Tallis was a wiry kid, not the kind of person who could stand out in a crowd. He had gray eyes that matched the color of the once-blue couch, now faded. As he sat, waiting, his foot-tapping growing faster until the double doors on the other side of the room burst open.

A girl raced in, her eyes wide, her soft, light brown hair flying out behind her as she ran towards Tallis, her arms already outstretched. As soon as she reached the boy on the couch, she wrapped her thin arms around his stiff figure, burying her pretty face in his chest and letting out a choked sob. Slightly taken aback by his friend's dramatic entrance, Tallis hugged her back, one of his hands soothingly patting her on the back.

_How funny,_ he thought, _I'm the one who has just been sentenced to my death, yet I'm not the one being comforted_.

The girl drew back, prying herself from Tallis. His shirt was damp with her tears, little dark spots speckled across the plain white shirt he had worn to the Reaping. Her sweet, normally perfect face was streaked with tears, her light blue eyes red and puffy. With one slim hand she wiped both her cheeks; first her left, then her right. The movement caused what little makeup she wore to smear over her already messed-up face. However, she took no notice to the dark, blurry lines near her eyes and proceeded to burst out sobbing again. Tallis resisted the urge to let out an exasperated sigh.

"H-h-how c-could y-you?"

Even though his friend was prone to making unjust statements, the question that escaped her lips at the present moment stunned him. As he stared at her, slanted eyes wide, even more tears rolled down her face.

"I'm s-s-sorry," she mumbled, attempting to wipe the big, fat tears off her cheeks. "It's just, I'm s-so afraid for you."

This time, Tallis did sigh. "Rose," he murmured, reaching for her hand. His slim, nimble, and admittedly feminine fingers wrapped around her slippery, tear-drenched ones. "I'll let you in on a secret."

"Hm?" Rose asked, looking down at him with misty eyes. "What?"

"I'm scared for myself, too. In fact, I'm terrified. Scared out of my wits. Petrified. But you know what? I have to be strong, if I want to get out of this thing alive. _You_ have to be strong, Rose. Be strong for me."

Tallis' friend sniffled pathetically and took her free hand to wipe her nose.

"I'll try, Tal. I'll try really hard, but-"

If it had been any other situation, if it hadn't been as serious as it was, if his life wasn't in danger, Tallis would have slapped her. Right then and there. It was something the two of them did, sometimes on a daily basis. A simple gesture, meant to show one's annoyance towards the other. Both of them had learned to expect it. Rose obviously was, because she flinched backwards. Looking down, Tallis found he had raised his hand from the arm of the sofa. Though his hand had only moved an inch or so, it was enough for Rose to instinctively expect a stinging clap on the cheek.

"No buts," he said softly. "Promise me, Rose. Promise me you'll be strong. If I die, you'll move on with your life. Don't forget me, but don't let my death ruin you. I'm not worth it."

"B-but you a-are," Rose whimpered, her fingers closing more tightly around Tallis' own. "You are, Tallis. And don't you ever forget it."

A weak smile appeared on Tallis' face. He tasted a salty liquid in his mouth, and found that he too was crying.

"Thanks," he said, taking the hand not holding Rose's and wiping his face. He found the taste of his own tears rather unpleasant. It reminded him of one where his cousin had accidentally cut himself on a wire Tallis had left lying around. It had been a simple, honest mistake, one that he was never able to live down. He had been working on a mine, trying to create one with a two-inch diameter. It was difficult work; no one else in the entire District had ever managed to accomplish such a feat. Tallis had thought he could complete one successfully, it seemed like easy work to him. He had done similar things, made mines that amazed even the professionals. When he grew up, Tallis had planned on moving to the center of the District, making mines for a living. If he ever grew up.

After a long day at work, he had neglected his duty of cleaning up after himself. Instead, he had left the various wires as they were, lithely making his way up the dark basement stairs. Tallis had an excellent memory; it was something he prided himself on. He never had to be reminded who was the victor of the tenth Hunger Games, what day the Rebellion leaders surrendered, or how the use of the Cornucopia first came into practice. Most importantly, he could remember the placement of all the wires left around the basement. Using only his memory and the dim light of the bulb that hung from the unfinished ceiling, Tallis had made his way upstairs without injury. His cousin, however, wasn't so lucky.

The thing about wires is that they don't cause much injury when simply run into. However, a wire stretched taught can easily behead someone, if they are unfortunate enough to run into one at neck height. Just walking into one won't do the job either. You must be going at a certain speed or above to sustain yourself an injury worth crying about.

Tallis had been ten, his cousin, Will, six. He had ran downstairs, giggling madly in his high-pitched, childish voice as Tallis chased him, arms outstretched, growling loudly like the monsters in his old books.

Will had stumbled down the steps, still laughing, Tallis still growling, smiling more than he had in a long time. Though he could have ran much faster if he had wanted to, he wanted to give his cousin the chance to beat him; he was, after all, only six. He never handled it well; being caught. To him, it was like being beat. Once, when they were both younger, Tallis had outrun him in a race. Will had sat down on the floor, screaming and crying, beating his tiny toddler fists into the dirt. Tallis had made an effort _not_ to beat him ever since.

Will had launched himself off the last stair into the basement. Suddenly, he had tripped and fell. He could have landed on his face if he had not managed to twist himself around and land on his behind. At first, Tallis had been confused, but then he saw the thin trickle of blood dripping onto the floor. As he had looked at his cousin's appalled face, Will burst into tears, his little hands clutching his ankle as he rocked back and forth. Tallis had instantly rushed forward, muttering soothing words as he attempted to calm his screaming cousin. His uncle was out; though he greatly disapproved of leaving his son and nephew alone at the house, he had no choice. Therefore, there was no one around to hear Will's cries of pain.

Being the small boy Tallis was, he had been forced to half-carry, half-drag his cousin up the stairs. The even smaller boy had resigned to whimpering softly, clutching tightly onto Tallis' t-shirt as his tears soaked the sleeve. Tallis had dressed the wound as best as he could, wrapping a piece of cloth tightly around Will's bleeding ankle. Being so close to the injury made his nose tingle; and not in a good way. Although the scent (and taste) of his tears wasn't as unpleasant as the stench of blood, Tallis found the salty liquids a little too alike for his taste.

At the precise moment, Rose leaned forward. Tallis didn't have time to react before their lips met. As the pair kissed, his mind was reeling.

_What? _He thought, feeling tingly and unsure. _Rose? Me? What? I just doesn't make sense! __We- we were just friends! Just friends! She can't have liked me! No way! But maybe, no, Tallis, you're being stupid. She's never shown any inter-, wait, maybe she has. And I've just been too blind to see it. Oh man, I've been an idiot._

Suddenly, Rose pulled away. She was crying again, her button nose running. She didn't bother to do anything about it. Instead, she gave him a sad, frightened face, shoved something into his hand, and bolted out of the room.

_Well then, _Tallis thought, feeling slightly bemused. _ That was...nice._

He didn't have time to ponder what had just happened however, because only a minute or two after Rose had left, the now-eleven-year-old Will walked in.

"Bad luck, bro."

"I'm not your 'bro'," Tallis said through gritted teeth. He greatly disapproved of his cousin's new 'lingo', which Will had picked up when he started hanging out with the 'bad boys' in his grade. "I'm your _cousin_."

Will grinned. "No prob, cuz."

"Shut _up_!"

The younger boy held his hands up as if to protect his face. "Hey, settle down, bro, I mean, _Tallis_." He emphasized his cousin's name, knowing better than to annoy his relative when he was already on edge. "I'm sorry. I know how you must feel."

"No you don't!" He hissed. After the event with his best friend, Tallis found his emotions rather, well, all over the place. Though usually he made it through the day without yelling at his younger cousin, he felt...angry. It wasn't an emotion he could explain, but he felt furious, enraged, though he didn't know why. Tallis didn't like it. He liked, no _loved_, knowing things. Though he wasn't your typical nerdy smart-aleck, it made him feel good to be one of the top students in his class, to tell the teacher the answer while the rest of the children were still puzzled. It made him feel special, important. Now that he was uncertain, particularly about _himself_, Tallis hated it. He realized what it must be like to be one of the average pupils, to not know things. Though never one for violence, at the moment he felt like punching something.

"Hey. What's that?" Will pointed to his cousin's hand. Tallis had, unknowingly of course, curled his fingers tightly around whatever it was that Rose had given to him, and the threatening cracking sound was the thing that brought it to his attention.

Slowly loosening his fingers to reveal what lay beneath, Tallis' breath caught in his throat. Though the thing was admittedly very small, it was still very detailed and beautiful. It made him want to cry all over again.

It was a dreamcatcher. It was not large and extravagant like the extremely expensive ones he sometimes glanced in the nearby antique store, it was much smaller than that. Tallis guessed it could fit in his pocket. As he held it, he realized one more difference; it felt so much more special to him than any other he could ever have. The thing didn't have the quality, the plain, boring perfect that came with an object made with a practiced hand. _Rose must have made it herself_, he realized. The more and more he thought about the time and effort she must have put into it, the more breakable it looked. Tallis closed his fingers around it once more, gentler this time.

"She must have meant it to be my token," he whispered, wanting to see Rose again, to tell her how he was sorry, how it was all going to be okay, how he would come back. Then again, Tallis didn't want to lie.

"Who?" Will's loud, slightly impatient voice broke through his thoughts.

"Rose," Tallis murmured, grasping his new token like it was some kind of sacred object. "Rose gave it to me,"

"Oh, that's nice," Well responded, staring at Tallis as though he was slightly crazy. "She made it herself?"

Tallis nodded. "It's pretty, isn't it?"

"I guess."

Tallis sighed. Though he most definitely loved his cousin, loved him like a brother, sometimes he could really get on his nerves. Not directly admitting the beauty of Rose's wonderful creature stirred something inside of him, but Tallis didn't berate him like he wanted to. Instead, he gave a small, sad smile up at Will, who was only slightly taller than him when Tallis was sitting.

A Peacekeeper stationed at the dark oak doors turned. "Two more minutes," the man said in a flat, expressionless voice.

"Well, good luck. Try your best to come home. Really try?"

"I'll try, Will. I promise I'll try."

Tallis' cousin laid his hand on his shoulder. "Dad's coming in. I'll see you on TV."

The older boy gave another weak smile. "See you."

The double doors hadn't even swung closed before a familiar, friendly face appeared.

"Bad luck today, eh, sport?"

Tallis nodded. "Yeah, I guess.

His uncle laughed, a loud, raucous laugh that Tallis had come to love during his past ten years at his uncle's home. It was a sound that made the Peacekeeper at the exit grunt disapprovingly.

"I guess! I _guess_! Tallis, this is the thing that kids your age dread all year, and you're saying that you _guess_ you're unlucky?"

"It's gotta happen to somebody," Tallis mumbled, which made his uncle laugh again.

"What are the chances that that somebody would be you?"

"Four in thousands, apparently."

"What about the chances of you winning?"

Tallis didn't answer. Somewhere, deep inside him, he knew that he wasn't going to win, but somewhere even deeper he knew that he _could_ do it, if he really, really tried. And that's what he was going to do. He was going to really, really try. He was going to be a tribute, whether he wanted to or not. Why give up so soon?

* * *

_**Marin Stelz; District One**_

* * *

Marin Stelz felt like screaming.

It was, at this moment, that he felt like he truly hated District One. Of course, the younger kids who adored him and followed him around (a young girl had even asked for his autograph) gave him a nice self-esteem boost and he had a lot of 'friends' who would do anything and everything for him. Sometimes, Marin felt like they would die for him if need be. Although being so popular was nice, even wonderful, it had its downfalls. Kids trailing him like some kind of dog when he just wanted to be left alone, girls always trying to flirt with him even though he obviously had no interest in them whatsoever, it could get annoying. After dealing with this for more than five years, Marin wanted nothing more to lock himself in his large, lavish room and be free of the world.

However, this was nothing new. It was something that happened to him on a daily basis, just a regular irritation, like a fly buzzing endlessly around his head. Today, it felt like the whole of Panem was out to get him.

Marin felt like he had a hard life. He was not an orphan sleeping in the alleys of District Twelve, nor was he a starving child who was forced to take out astronomical amounts of tesserae just to feed himself and his family. No, he was a Career. He could take everyday showers with heated water, had three meals a day, and dressed in fancy clothes, like the gold tuxedo he had worn to the Reaping. However, compared to most of the kids in the Career Districts, he was a poor, poor soul.

It seemed like a regular day. In District One, the Reaping was something of a celebration, with elaborate meals and clothes. Most wore their best, in an effort to look their best even if they weren't planning on volunteering. Along with the traditional race to the stage to volunteer, there was also the competition to see who would look the best. Girls would survey the other girls, examining their clothes, trying to see who had worn the most glittery, expensive, and revealing dress. Of course, there was always a few girls who came to the Reaping dressed in almost nothing, whether it was see-through or short or just plain small. Marin remembered a girl last year who had dressed herself in a skin-tight, strapless lilac outfit that just barely reached her thighs. The girl had worn extremely tall black stilettos and had put on so much makeup her face looked fake. It was his impression that the girl had dressed this way in order to seduce the escort into letting her be the tribute for that year, as she was eighteen. He remembered the girl's face when the escort had pranced on stage. The man last year had been replaced by a woman with sky blue skin and freakishly large indigo eyes. The girl had still run towards the stage, her well-toned arms failing desperately. However, with her tall, thin heels, it was a fight already lost, and she had broken one of them before she could make it to the stage.

Still haunted by what had happened last year, none of the girls had worn anything so flashy, but just in case the man came back, no one had worn anything loose or comfortable, even the boys. A boy could seduce a female escort just as well as a girl could seduce a male escort. It was all about appearance, in the Games. A skinny, wide-eyed tribute from one of the lower Districts would never get any sponsors. Besides, it wasn't like they were going to survive the Cornucopia. Now, a muscular, well-dressed Career was like a magnet for Capitol people with money. That's what Marin was, or at least he wanted to be.

It didn't help his plan to win through sponsors when he had seen the look that the female tribute had given him. It didn't help that this was the same girl that he had admired from afar for a year. Just thinking about her made Marin's heart flutter. It ashamed him so. Girls were supposed to be the ones who fell at the feet of their male counterparts, but he felt like he was about to slip to his knees and beg her to go out with him. She hadn't so much as glanced at him in all the years he'd known her, except for today, when she'd given him what seemed like the dirtiest look she could muster.

_Oh well_, Marin thought to his melancholy self, _I guess negative attention is better that no attention at all_.

As much as he tried to convince himself, a nagging voice in the back of his head told him he was wrong. He'd much rather be ignored than have his guts hated by who he thought was the most beautiful girl in the entire District.

Just when it seemed his day couldn't get any worse, the elegant wooden doors adjacent to him and the sofa he was sitting on burst open and a large, imposing figure stormed in.

Marin's father was angry. Really, really, _really_ angry. He knew it as soon as he got a good glimpse of his parent's eyes.

"Why?" Was the first word out of his mouth. _Why?_ It was such a simple question. Marin should have been able to answer it within seconds. He had done it before, dozens of times. This time, however, he just sat there, stiff and silent, his mouth slightly agape.

The same word had been asked so many times before, in the Hunger Games. Marin started watching them when he turned eight. He got a deluxe set of all twelve Games for his ninth birthday. It was his favorite gift that year. Within a week he had watched them all. He particularly remembered the female tribute from District Five in the seventh Hunger Games. She had teamed up with the girl from District Three and the boy from Nine. Eventually, the Three girl was killed by some sort of mutant creature, who were later called "muttations" by the Games' famous commentator. They had been a new addition that year, and according to rumors had been a riot with the Capitol viewers. Every year, from then on, there had been some new freak show, sometimes several. After the muttation had killed Three, the tension had grown between Five and Nine as the number of tributes still in the Game continued to dwindle. Finally, when there were only four left, the boy ended up killing his ally. As she had looked up, blood dripping from her lips, she had mouthed one word, and one word only, "_Why?_" It haunted him for the rest of his life, gave him nightmares for the first three weeks. He couldn't stop that single, horrible syllable from reverberating through his mind. _Why?_

Now his father stood before him, asking the very same question. As much as he tried to resist it, his brain filled with images of the girl, weak from hunger, her blond hair knotted and messy and streaked with blood. Her mouth was open with a scream that would never sound.

Marin blinked, and found himself staring up at his father's contorted face. "I-I'm sorry."

Of course, he had nothing to be sorry for. It was his life he was risking, not his father's. In fact, it wasn't like the man was going to cry for him if he did die. He'd probably only feel disappointed. He hated being disappointed. It didn't matter the reason behind it, he hated being let down. His mother had been smart. She had left him as soon as she realized his true self. The sugar-sweet words, the roses in intricate glass vases, it had all been a lie. Or, at least that's what Marin heard the night she left. They had gotten into a fight. A huge one. He had hid upstairs, hugging his knees to his chest, willing the shouting to stop so his mother could come tuck him into bed. She did, eventually, late at night. She had walked stiffly into her son's large bedroom, her cheeks flushed with anger. As soon as he had seen her, he scrambled up into bed, hastily pulling the covers over himself. She had smoothed back the sheets, more slowly than usual. She had kissed him on the top of his head and said, "Good night, Marin honey. Mommy loves you."

He never heard from her again. Oh, why couldn't she have taken him with her?

Marin sighed. It didn't matter that his father was not a yard away, perfectly capable of giving his son a clap on the cheek right then and there. The larger, older man pushed his face up against Marin's.

"You're going to die, son," he hissed through his teeth. Marin could smell the expensive Capitol wine on his breath. "Stupid boy, you're going to die."

He spoke before his father could finish. "Gee, thanks Dad. I love you too."

He scowled, his eyes flashing dangerously. "Haven't I raised you to be better? To be smarter? How could you hurt me like this?"

"No, Dad, you haven't. In fact, you've barely raised me at all. You've spent all your time away in the stupid Capitol, doing your stupid job, and neglecting me. You're not fit to call yourself a father."

"Your eyes!" His father shrieked, his voice rising dramatically. "Your eyes! Do you know how much money it cost me for you to get your eyes done?"

"A blip in the budget," Marin replied coolly. "You make enough money a year to get every single freaking person in District One's eyes done."

"Don't be so dramatic," he replied, his volume falling again. "That's an exaggeration, you know it is."

"Not by much. You're practically a freaking Gamemaker."

"Gamemakers make at least twice as much as me."

"You're a millionaire, while people in the other Districts are starving to death. I'd think you're pretty lucky, don't you?"

"Don't you like it? Don't you like being so rich that you can afford whatever you want? Don't you like being treated like royalty by all the kids your age? Well, don't you?"

"I'd give it all up in an instant, just to have an actual father. An actual mother. Someone who I can talk to, someone who will hold me when I'm sad, someone who I love and who loves me."

Mr. Stelz let out some sort of high-pitched laugh, one that was so uncharacteristic for him that it took Marin by surprise. "See? There's no way you'll survive the Games. You're still a freaking kid. You want someone to hold you when you're sad? Ha! You're nothing more than a stupid, naïve kid."

Without really thinking, Marin raised his hand and brought it, fast, across his father's cheek. It reddened almost immediately afterward. At first, his eyes widened in surprise, as if he could not comprehend what his son had just done. However, several moments afterward, he let out a yelp and clutched at his face with one hand.

"Go. Just go," Marin muttered, averting his eyes from his father's. "I don't want to see you. Ever again. Go."

Mr. Stelz's fist flew towards him. He instinctively flinched backwards, thinking that his father was going to punch him in the nose as punishment for what he had done. However, several inches before it made contact with his face, the fingers unclenched, and something was dropped into the fifteen-year-old's lap. Without bothering to give an explanation, Marin's father left the room, shoulders hunched_**.**_

Marin lifted his father's gift to his eyes. It was a watch, very handsome but very old. The strap was leather; he was surprised that it had remained in such good condition over the years. The glass over the face of the watch had a long crack across it, but that was to be expected. He held the thing to his chest. After his argument with his father just minutes ago, he felt like he should hold the watch like it was some form of evil, and that he should throw it out the window, flinging it away so it could no longer contaminate him. However, he felt like it meant something, that his father actually cared for him, no matter what he used to say. It left Marin feeling completely, utterly, terribly confused.

One of the two oak doors slowly opened. Marin, who had been expecting to spend the rest of the hour allotted alone in the room, looked up in surprise. There stood a girl, her dark hair straightened and face doused with so much makeup it almost hurt his eyes to look at her. She batted her admittedly long, thick eyelashes and flirtatiously tossed her hair over her shoulder. He sighed.

_Not her again_, he though exasperatedly. Why can't she just leave me alone?

The girl had, in fact, been crushing on Marin almost as long as he had been crushing on Amethyst. He was not even quite sure why she was so intent on them becoming an "item", he barely even knew her. All he knew was that, one day, she had started following him around, giggling in a sickening way and attempting to get his attention every chance she got.

"Get out," Marin said coolly, looking at the ground. A yard or two away from him, the girl's dizzyingly tall white heels had stopped moving. He imagined her face, hurt and probably somewhat embarrassed.

"I said _get out,_" he repeated, more firmly again. The girl still didn't move.

"Get _out_!" Marin stood up, his fists clenched, the watch falling to the floor. "Are you deaf? Get _out_!"

The girl dropped whatever she had been holding and hurried out of the room, her eyes beginning to fill up with tears.

Half an hour later, a man in a white uniform opened the door again. "Your sixty minutes are up," he said in an indifferent voice. Marin got up, tucking the watch into his pants' pocket, and walked over to the Peacekeeper, trampling the fallen rose as he went.

* * *

**A/N:**_** Aahhh, so sorry for the wait everybody! Sadly, I don't think I'm going to update much sooner than I did this time. Life for me is super-busy, I barely get to see my friends anymore. However, I will never abandon this story, so you'll know to expect an update sooner or later.**_

_** Thanks to all who reviewed the last chapter; I hope you liked this one. I love both Tallis and Marin. I loved getting into their heads, they're both great characters.**_

_** Got any alliance requests yet? PM me if you do. You can always change your mind later if you want. I already have a few good ideas of who'll get together, but I'd like to hear your opinions.**_

_** Reviews are much loved :)**_


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